


His Heart is Good

by DemonSquipster



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Character Study, Cross-Posted on Amino, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Minor Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Romantic Fluff, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13770282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: "He loved running his hands through Anatole's soft hair while they slept. He loved looking into Anatole's jubilant blue eyes, always full of emotion. He loved listening to Anatole speak - whether it be him talking softly, conversations for just them and only them, or him being excited and passionate, charming and flirtatious. No matter what, the sound of Anatole's voice could brighten his whole day. He loved tracing the features of Anatole's face; his high cheekbones, the way his temples curved, his light lips. He loved leaving kisses on Anatole's jawline.Overall, he loved how full of life Anatole was, and how kind and charitable he could be.Anatole Kuragin had come into Fedya's life unannounced, and left a mark on him emotionally that couldn't undone. Anatole might have been the death of him, and he wouldn't have cared a bit."AKA the fic where Fedya just wants to be around Anatole, and that Russian thot wouldn't have it any other way.





	His Heart is Good

His shoes clicked on the glossy marble floor, his hand pressed softly against the slightly shorter man's. He hummed a tune, and wandered away to his violin.

Fedya watched as he picked up the treasured instrument, and his bow next. The bow hairs danced along the strings, playing the melody Anatole had just been humming. His fingers moved slowly along the fingerboard, as the tune was slow.

It was mesmerizing to watch Anatole play, especially when he wasn't just trying to show off. When he showed off, he'd be playing faster. Now he was just playing a slower tune, one that could possibly lull Fedya to sleep. He bit back a smile, and mentally noted that. He'd have to tease Anatole with that some other time, perhaps when Helene returned _._

Anatole's shoes clicked again, as he waltzed over towards Fedya's direction. This idiot in front of him had wronged so many people, yet he when he played, he could be seen as innocent, if only for a moment in time. As if he hadn't done some of the things he had. 

Fedya couldn't deny the fact that he had been, at some point, jealous of Natasha Rostova. The adoring looks Anatole had shot her shouldn't have brought him as much envy as they had. He'd never been interested in guys before, why should he start now? Helene had been the closest he'd ever gotten to  _really_ being interested in women. But it wasn't her that his heart wanted; it was her brother. 

Anatole picked up his pencil as he let out a huff of irritation. Fedya watched him with a content curiosity. The lean blond picked his violin back up, playing the tune again. It sounded the same as before to Fedya, but he didn't have a musician's ear, like Anatole. Sure, he was a good shot when he needed to be, but Fedya knew the battlefield wasn't the place for his lover. Especially compared to how he looked and sounded on a stage. Helene knew it too; the thought of Anatole in battle was terrifying to both of them.

Anatole set the violin down again, humming. He waltzed back over to Fedya. "Mon cher, dance with me." He extended a hand out to the dark-haired man. Fedya's hands were folded behind his back, but they fell down by his side. He hesitated. He never particularly enjoyed dancing; tripping over his feet was more his skill. He was graceful on the field, in his own way, but in a ballroom... not exactly. But it was  _Anatole_ , and he couldn't turn him down. 

It didn't help that Anatole had a cocky little grin on his face, knowing damn well that Fedya wasn't going to say no. It's partially why he told Fedya to dance with him instead of asking. Plus, he was Anatole Kuragin, and he rarely got told no. It was practically an honor to dance with him. 

Fedya put his hand in Anatole's, who flashed a genuine smile. Despite how Anatole could be sometimes, he wouldn't change him if he could. Fedya knew Anatole's heart was good. Anatole's confident swagger was evident in each graceful step. The click of his black dress shoes could be heard clearly through the abandoned ballroom. 

Even though Anatole was leading, Fedya still felt like his protector. He would never let anything happen to him. Anatole didn't deserve that, especially after all of the kind acts he'd done for Fedya. Anatole's lips met Fedya's, which surprised him, and pulled him from his thoughts. "You two are adorable," a familiar voice chuckled from the doorway. Fedya pulled away, and glanced at Helene. He relaxed a little, seeing her, but his heart raced still. The old habit of hiding his sexuality would be hard to ditch, he supposed.

He glanced back at Anatole, who smirked childishly back. He was obviously amused by Fedya's show of panic. He never showed any kind of emotion like that in front of Anatole. It shocked the Kuragin brother that that had happened. Fedya was always more of a logic over emotion kind of person. That conflicted with Anatole's emotion over logic, but they made it work. 

"How is Pierre?" Anatole was still extremely close to Fedya, but he was looking at his sister. "He wasn't even there. Probably off with Natasha," she confessed. "Do you two want some privacy?" It was like them, to find a thing to tease the other with all too often. Though now, since Fedya had become Anatole's... whatever they were, they teased him too. He'd grown used to it, having known them for a while and all. 

Anatole looked back at Fedya, his jubilant blue eyes glancing into his own. To have eyes like Anatole's must have been a blessing. He realized by the amused expression on Anatole's face, he was expecting Fedya to answer. "No, please do stay."

She was probably going to despite what Fedya answered, but he didn't want to disappoint Anatole by saying no. Besides, he really didn't mind. If anything, she'd bring more conversation into the room. Of course, he might be sacrificing the chance to hear Anatole play softer melodies, but he could ask another time. 

"You know what seems like a fun idea?" Fedya looked over at Helene, intrigued. "Do enlighten me, sister mine," Anatole teased. "It's not going to put me to sleep, like Anatole's song, I hope." Usually Anatole responded to Fedya's jokes with a quick comeback, but he seemed a little wounded by this. "It might. I was thinking, we go to the house I share with Pierre, and ransack his closet. He wants to attack us behind our backs; so we fight fire with fire." 

Fedya's mind was still on the hurt expressed that had crept across Anatole's face for a beat. He knew for sure Helene had noticed it, even if she hadn't said anything. Perhaps whatever tune that was, meant more to him than some of his others. He had noticed the little looks Anatole had been giving him, almost as if the song was meant specifically for him. Guilt sank into him, and he wanted to apologize. But Anatole had responded to Helene's idea, and they were both looking to him now. "Fedya, darling? Are you alright?"

He looked at Anatole, the source of the question. "Yes, I'm fine." He met Helene's eyes, and replied with "I think that sounds great. I have been wanting to do something since he  _shot_ me, and we don't seem very busy at the moment." She smiled maliciously. "Perfect. Let's go now!" She waved them on, and practically ran out of the ballroom. Anatole and Fedya shared a look. 

"I didn't mean to offend you, I just thought-" Fedya blurted out. Anatole raised a hand, silencing him. "It's... okay, really. I just..." He trailed off, sighing. "I've been composing a piece for you, and I didn't mean for it to bore you. I thought it was lovely, really." Guilt. Definitely more guilt. "It  _was_ , I promise. I was hoping you'd actually play something again, some other time. Not when Helene's waiting on us, but please. I'd appreciate it." Anatole nodded, and smiled again. It was softer now. Something he only shared with Helene and Fedya. 

He felt lucky for getting to see it.

"Let's go make fun of Pierre now, mon amour." 

Their fingers entwined as they took their time to catch up with Helene. 

He loved running his hands through Anatole's soft hair while they slept. He loved looking into Anatole's jubilant blue eyes, always full of emotion. He loved listening to Anatole speak - whether it be him talking softly, conversations for just them and only them, or him being excited and passionate, charming and flirtatious. No matter what, the sound of Anatole's voice could brighten his whole day. He loved tracing the features of Anatole's face; his high cheekbones, the way his temples curved, his light lips. He loved leaving kisses on Anatole's jawline.

Overall, he loved how full of life Anatole was, and how kind and charitable he could be.

Anatole Kuragin had come into Fedya's life unannounced, and left a mark on him emotionally that couldn't undone. Anatole might have been the death of him, and he wouldn't have cared a bit.


End file.
